


You Let It In.

by bigmanaaron



Category: StarKid Productions RPF, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Blue Blood, Burns, Creepy, Infected Paul, Injured Paul, Injury, Let it out, Missing Teeth, Numbness, The Hive - Freeform, how do you tag things?, infected!paul, small descriptions of blood, this is basically just me wanting to describe what it's like being in the hive, this is my first fic ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigmanaaron/pseuds/bigmanaaron
Summary: Paul, after pulling the pin on the grenade, begins to feel his apotheosis completely take over. And it's terrifying.Paul felt nothing.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	You Let It In.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! this is my first fic EVER. please be patient with me, i am trying my best. this was really fun to write!

**“I DON’T. LIKE. MUSICALS!!”** **  
** **  
** That was the last thing he remembered saying, before everything went as badly as it could possibly go.

He knew he was partially infected, I mean, he had been SINGING for god’s sake. His worst fucking nightmare. He was fighting a fight that he was destined to lose, and he knew that. So, with his final act of control, he pulled the pin.   
  
It was horrifying.   
  
The sounds of his friends- no, scratch that- the infected, screeching in high pitches as he felt his body being ripped into shreds from the grenade blast.   
  
He was thrown back into the seats of the theater, feeling the skin on his bare arms and face rip and burn from the sheer force of the explosion.   
  


_ Am I dead? _ __   
__   
That was the last thought he managed to have as a human, before everything went blue.

  
The agonizing pain seemed to end almost as soon as it started.   
  
Paul felt nothing as he began to pull himself up from the rubble of the once beautiful starlight theater, the broken roof letting in the light of the night sky.   
  
Paul felt nothing as he looked down at his body, blue blood oozing from several deep wounds and burns, staining his once pristine clothes.   
  
Paul felt nothing as a cheesy, fake grin spread across his face.   
  
Paul felt nothing.   
  
He supposed it was a comfort, not having to deal with the pain, but a part of him was screaming. Screaming that this was  _ wrong _ . That this shouldn’t be happening. He wasn’t sure why he felt this way.   
  
Shouldn’t he be happy now?    
  
Paul scanned his surroundings with his neon blue eyes, watching as his new brothers and sisters dragged themselves out of the broken bits of the stage. A new song was beginning to drum through the air.   
  
Paul’s grin grew wider, and he wandered over to his old buddy, Bill, and held out a hand. There were lyrics coming out of his mouth now, a song of comfort to his injured brethren. Bill took his hand, and Paul helped him up as they began harmonizing with each other. Any part of Paul that had said that this was wrong, was evidently gone as the beautiful rhymes flowed out from his vocal chords. It felt good.   
  
It felt right.    
  
As the other infected began recovering and joining into his inspirational ballad, Paul felt a mangled hand set itself on his shoulder. He turned around on the beat of the music, and met eyes with his old boss, Mr. Davidson. Mr. Davidson had several missing teeth, and blue was oozing out of his mouth as he smiled and questioned, “Are you happy now, Paul?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
The word came out of his mouth, completely out of his control. He would never be able to say he was unhappy again, because he wasn’t. He was happy. The Hive said he was happy. He had to be.   
  
Mr. Davidson only smiled wider at Paul’s response. As more lyrics poured out of their mouths, Paul began to feel numbness take over him. It wasn’t just the pain that was numbed, but his emotions too. Any kind of thoughts he had been having, were slowly being taken from his mind. He felt himself becoming more and more in sync with The Hive. It felt good.   
  
It felt right.

  
“And what do you want, Paul?” 

Mr. Davidson sung, his tone sharper than it was in his last lyric.   
  
Paul almost hesitated. He knew what he wanted now, and that was to serve The Hive. For the first time in his life, he  _ wanted. _ He had meaning now. That meaning was given to him by The Hive. The only thing that mattered was The Hive.

  
The music in the air was much clearer now and it swelled as Paul began singing even stronger than before. The numbness, and his want, were all he could feel now. Slowly but surely, him and his fellow infected began to group together, and Paul felt nothing as they marched out of the theater.   
  
Paul felt nothing as they sung choruses through the streets, their harmonies and lyrics a sound of triumph.   
  
Paul felt nothing as his world turned into a musical.   
  
Paul felt nothing as he served The Hive.   
  
Paul felt nothing.   
  
_ Paul felt nothing. _   
  


**Author's Note:**

> HEY! THANK YOU FOR READING MY FIRST EVER FIC! I might continue this, but I'm not sure about it. any feedback would be absolutely wonderful!


End file.
